Rosagunde
by le-chocolat391516
Summary: Requested by my friend westergxrds and also the prequel for A Heart Worth Mining. Also incorporates a character from Miss Muse Clue's "Fighting to Feel: A Trial in Arendelle". Hans returns to the Southern Isles empty-handed and defeated, but things change for him when he meets the newest member of the Westergaard royal family.
**This was a commission from my friend** westergxrds **which I have turned into a little prequelette for my in-progress story, A Heart Worth Mining (which you should go read, as long as you ignore how sappy the first two chapters are).**

 **This is a little more dramatic and has less comic relief than the aforementioned, which you may notice if you are reading that too.**

 **Hans, the Southern Isles, Elsa, Anna, Arendelle, etc all belong to Disney. Lars, Caleb, Rudi, Runo, and the king belong to Disney and Elizabeth Rudnick.**

* * *

 _"No, no, no, no,"_ he thought, _"We're almost there. I can't do it. I can't go back there."_ Hans had thoroughly considered convincing one of the guards to let him out of his little cell so that he could throw himself off the ship. It was a very savory idea, he thought. The water filling his lungs would be so soothing compared to what he was about to face. The only reason he didn't is because there was no way they would let him out.

Not only did he have to face his brothers, father, and stepmother, but he also had to face them empty-handed. No crown, no queen, no power. On his way to Arendelle only a few days prior he imagined this day very, _very_ differently. He saw himself parading the docks of the Southern Isles, his chest out, nose in the air, and Queen Elsa on his arm smiling happily. The mysterious Queen Elsa who never left her castle, so they said, except when the illustrious Prince Hans appeared to sweep her off her feet and out of her hole. He would introduce her to his father and he would say, "Son, I am _so proud_ of you. You proved me wrong. I'm sorry for not seeing your potential. You will make a great king." "No, father," Hans would reply humbly, "There is nothing to forgive." All his brothers would gaze in awe at him. The thirteenth son, a king, and the rest of them still just spares. He would rise head and shoulders over all of them. And then-

"Drop the anchor!" the captain of the ship shouted, shaking Hans from his reverie. He could hear a slow _click click click click_ that seemed to go on forever and then a _thump_ at the bottom of the ocean. The first thing Hans thought of as they pulled him out of the cell was Sitron. "Where's my horse?" he asked the Arendelle guards, but they didn't respond.

They pulled him off the ship and he stared in horror at the fortress awaiting him. The Arendelle guards were anxious to get him off their hands, so they found the most official person they could find and one of them cried out "You! What is your position here?"

The guard gawked at the strange scene of these two foreign officials clutching a dirty, ragged, shackled Prince Hans still in his royal garb and stuttered, "Uh...So-Southern Isles Royal Coast Guard. How may we assist you?"

He threw Hans at him and said nonchalantly, "Take _that_ to your king. And show him this list of grievances from the Princess of Arendelle." The coast guard, utterly confused, took the paper and looked at Hans for more explanation, but Hans only glued his gaze at the ground.

"Have a lovely day!" the guard said finally, then turning to his companion he muttered, "Let's go get some drinks before heading back."

* * *

"We are writing you...your Prince Hans of the Southern Isles..." the old man skimmed the long letter, "Attempted regicide, deception...embezzlement...defacing royal property, and..." he chuckled and then read the final one, "and breaking my heart. Hmm. It's missing something though. I would probably add _disgracing his family by returning empty-handed._ But that's no surprise. Don't you agree my dear?" He turned to his wife, a very young woman with thin blond hair and a ghostly pale face. She was only a few years older than Hans, but she looked like she was sixteen. He had only seen her once or twice when his father first married her a few years ago, but she looked a lot healthier then. She made no response to her husband, simply stared at the ground, absentmindedly rocking the shrieking bundle in her arms.

"You have nothing to say?" the king asked again.

"Very disgraceful," she muttered.

"I must say though," he continued, "I am impressed at your...efforts. However, I am a politician, and politics must be carried out. Therefore you are hereby stripped of your title and you will receive 40 lashings after which-"

"NO!" the queen cried.

There was a pause. "Pardon?" the king asked.

"D-don't hurt him!" she pleaded. The child was silent for a moment and then continued crying.

"Well then, what do you propose we do, my queen?" he inquired, poking at the bundle in her arms. It screamed even louder and he pulled his hand away.

"J-just send him to the servants' wing and let them deal with him."

Suddenly they were interrupted by the sound of the door being thrown open. "HANS!" a cheery voice echoed through the throne room, "You're back!"

"Lars..." Hans muttered. Of all of his brothers, brother number three was the _last_ one he wanted to see. He was an older bearded version of his youngest brother and was beaming from ear to ear, but then his face fell as he beheld the scene before him.

"What's going on?" he asked, bowing absentmindedly to his father and his wife.

"Hans," his father growled, "Why don't you tell your brother about your exciting trip to Arendelle?"

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Hans never heard the end of it from the rest of his brothers. One hot summer's day he was cleaning out the horse stalls, sweat dripping down his face, and brothers numbers nine and ten, Florian and Mattheas, came strutting past, staying as far back as possible to keep the mud and muck off their shiny boots.

"Well well," Florian taunted, "if it isn't King Hans of Arendelle!"

"King of Manure Mountain, more like!" Mattheas laughed.

"What are your your royal duties today, Your Smelliness?"

"Oh, would you two grow up? Are you five?" Hans heard Lars exclaim behind them, "If you're going to insult him, do it with some tact." Hans sighed. Of course Lars wouldn't come to his defense. Not anymore. He had lost the last source of respect he ever had in this kingdom.

"We'll let you do it then, Lars," Florian said, "But Hans isn't worth wasting a single thought," and the two of them strutted away.

Lars watched them go and then turned to look down on Hans, who was still shoveling. After a few moments of silence he uttered, "Father wants to see you."

"I'm not finished yet," Hans grumbled.

"You can finish later," Lars argued. Hans paused for a moment, a glimmer of hope flickering through his mind, that his father by some miracle wanted to see him in order to give him another chance to be a prince. To be a hero. But then it flickered out just as quickly as it came and he kept shoveling. He thought that he knew what it was to be a hero. He was just trying to help the people of Arendelle. He was going to be the one to end the winter and bring back summer. How did it go so horribly wrong?

 _"Why did you do it, Hans?"_ Lars continued.

"I didn't do anything," Hans responded flatly.

"What are you talking about? You tried to _kill_ the Queen of Arendelle. I thought our plan was for you to marry her."

"Well, we didn't know then what she was capable of."

"What do you mean?" Lars inquired, "What is she capable of?"

Hans stopped shoveling, but still didn't look at his brother. "Remember how you heard that she never left the castle? Did you ever wonder why?"

"Well, I guess, but-"

"She almost destroyed the whole kingdom." Lars was silent, staring at him dumbfounded, and Hans continued. "She has... _powers_. I thought she was doing it on purpose..."

"Doing _what_ on purpose? You're making no sense."

"Never mind," Hans concluded, "You would never believe me if I told you."

Lars was speechless. Not only was his brother an attempted murderer, but he had also gone crazy. "I feel like this is my fault," he said, "I should have never told you to go." Hans made no response, just stared off into space breathing heavily. Lars decided to change the subject. "You know," he said with a small smile, "Did you know that you have a sister? She was born while you were... _away._ " Hans squinted at him in the sunlight. Was this supposed to cheer him up? He had taken care of enough nieces and nephews in nursery. "She's quite vocal, but she's cute when she sleeps." Hans remembered the shrieking bundle in the throne room. He had a sister..."Come," Lars ordered when Hans didn't say anything, "Time to go see father."

* * *

The guards in the hall, who usually stood still like statues, couldn't help but cover their noses as Hans passed. Lars, too, was keeping his distance. Apparently Hans wasn't allowed any time to wash up first.

"Hans!" the king exclaimed, almost cheerfully as they entered the study. Neither the queen nor her bundle were there with him this time. Hans took a moment to notice that his father was not well. He wheezed as he spoke and he leaned back in his chair as if in pain. He hadn't noticed before he left just how long and numerous his wrinkles were. "I see you've been keeping busy," he snickered, looking him up and down, "I've decided to give you a different kind of job, one that might be more dignifying. And if you don't disappoint me again, we can maybe think about giving you back your title." Hans peered at his father, his face lighting up with hope. Was he going to give him another chance?

"Since you've proved yourself capable, I need you to go to the second isle. There is a man there by the name of Reenberg and I need you to remove his head."

Hans' face turned white. He thought he heard him wrong. _"What?"_ he cried.

"Stenger is out of service, and I haven't been able to hire another executioner yet, but this Reenberg must be done away with as soon as possible."

"But father-" Lars started.

"Thank you, Lars, you may go now," the king interrupted, pointing at the door. Lars turned to Hans, trying to meet his gaze, but he couldn't. Once the door shut behind them, the king turned to Hans again. "Come now, son. It shouldn't be that hard for you."

"B-But...What did he do, father?"

"He's started an uprising. Claims that it's my fault that they're poor, or something of that nature. If they're too lazy to grow crops, that's not my fault. Anyways, there's rumors that they are going to bring their protest here. If you go and.." he chuckled, " _prevent_ this from happening, you will be very much rewarded."

Hans thought for a moment and realized that the last time he tried doing something like that, things didn't end up so well for him. "No," he stated flatly.

The king leaned forward cocking his head to one side. _"What did you say to me?"_

"I said," Hans repeated, and this time he glared into his father's eyes, "no. I won't do it."

The king lifted himself from his chair and slowly moved around the table until he was staring Hans in the face. "Don't disappoint me again," he whispered almost gently, "You want to be a Prince of the Southern Isles again, don't you?"

"No, I don't." Hans said flatly, standing up straight. There was a pause before his father slapped him hard across the face. Hans winced, bringing his hand slowly to his cheek.

"Norfred!" the king shouted. A stout man in a mustard-colored uniform appeared.

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Forty lashings for this one." Hans' eyes went wide and he gazed at the king pleadingly.

"Y-yes sir," Norfred stuttered, taking Hans by the arm and pulling him into the hall.

* * *

Hans laid on his stomach on the hard straw mattress in the servants' quarters, the sun beginning to set through the window above him. The pain on his bleeding bare back was so unbearable he couldn't move. He just stared at the stone wall, wishing that it would end. All of it. No matter how hard he tried to do the right thing, it was always the wrong thing. It always ended in pain and suffering. What was the point in trying anymore? The only real right thing he could do was just cease to exist. Leave this world. The only relief for him right now was that he was allowed to be alone. All the other servants were busy at work and he had time to lay there and imagine an ending for himself.

He was shaken from his daydream when he heard Lars whisper behind him, "Hello, Brother." Hans shifted his weight slightly in greeting. He carried a bottle of iodine and a cloth in one hand and a bowl of warm water in the other. Without saying anything, he sat on the edge of Hans' bed and started massaging the iodine into his red, sore wounds. Hans clenched his teeth and groaned in pain. At last Lars said, "You just keep getting yourself into more and more trouble, don't you?" Hans still didn't say anything. It hurt even to speak. "You know something," Lars continued, "I didn't recommend that you go to Princess Elsa's coronation because you were a bachelor and I felt bad for you. Rudi and Runo were bachelors too, but I didn't say anything to them." He sighed and continued, "I wanted you to go because I knew you would be a great king. I didn't know just how _selfish_ you were." He pressed even harder on his wounds at the last words. Hans winced. The words didn't hurt, however, because his other brothers had called him worse things. And he knew he was selfish and that he always would be.

After a few minutes, the pain started to numb a little. "I thought of something that might be a good distraction for you," Lars continued.

"What's that?" Hans groaned indifferently.

"I thought you might want to meet your new sister."

"I've seen enough babies," Hans muttered solemnly.

"You can always see one more. I think she's sleeping, so she won't be crying for once." Hans just breathed in a deep sigh. "How about if I bring her here?"

"Sure." Suddenly a shrieking erupted somewhere down the hall. Hans lifted his head up slightly.

"Good! Because I brought her here anyways." Lars helped Hans sit up and he wrapped a blanket around him to cover him. Hans clenched his teeth in pain.

The nurse peered inside hesitantly, and then brought in the screaming child. "I'm sorry, your highness," she said to Lars, "Rosa just woke up from her nap. Do you want to wait until later?"

"No, she's already here, Flora, why wait?" He stood up and struggled to take the bundle from her before bringing her over to Hans. "This is Rosagunde," he whispered.

Hans resisted taking her from Lars, sure that if he did he would drop her or she would cry even more, but he plopped her in his arms before he could stop him. To all of their surprise, she slowly went silent with only a few sniffles and hiccups remaining. She gazed up at Hans, eyes still shining with tears, and then she smiled. Hans had spent hours in the nursery taking care of his nieces and nephews, but then it hit him. This was his _sister_. The fourteenth Westergaard. He was no longer the youngest, and he no longer had only brothers. Sure, it was only his half sister, but it didn't matter. He couldn't help smiling back at her, and the pain in his back wasn't so bad anymore.

"Wow..." Lars uttered, "This is the first time she's ever been awake _and_ quiet at the same time."

"Really?" Hans mumbled, looking up at his brother and then back at his sister. She had large blue eyes and a little tuft of strawberry blonde hair on the top of her head. He slowly moved a finger towards her little hand and she grasped it tightly. He had never taken into account just how small a person's fingers could be.

She was the only person in his family who knew nothing about what he had done. His only sibling who didn't judge him or look down on him. He could start fresh with this innocent little girl and be a big brother that she could look up to and admire. And if he could do that for her, maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to do that with others too. Be a hero again and save the day like he had attempted to do in Arendelle.

"Don't tell my father that you've brought her here or he'll go crazy," Lars said to Flora. Hans looked up in alarm.

"Don't worry, your highness," she answered, "I won't. Her majesty has already asked me not to mention it to anyone."

"You should probably take her back before someone comes," Hans whispered urgently. He handed Rosagunde back to Flora and she started shrieking again.

"Uhm..." Flora started, struggling with the child, "You're welcome to come and see her anytime, your highness. _Please,_ come see her anytime."

Hans let out a single laugh, "All right, I will. Just make sure my father doesn't find out."

Luckily, it wasn't hard to work out a schedule. The king was far too busy sorting out political and royal affairs with his eldest son Caleb, and, Hans supposed, finding a new executioner. Hans was constantly required to come and rescue his little sister from her mean mother or cruel nurse who forced her to take her daily nap. Every day when he was weeding the gardens, cleaning the horse stalls, washing the windows, or any other kind of menial task he was assigned, someone from nursery would chase him down and call out "Your highness! Rosa won't go to sleep!" or "Your highness! The baby won't stop crying!" "Your highness!" "Your highness!" "Your highness!" It got to the point where whenever he heard someone shout, "Your highness!" behind him he knew exactly what it was about and would quickly clean himself up and head to nursery. There he would find a screaming Rosagunde and she would immediately calm down upon seeing him. Flora had taught him a few songs that he could sing to her and he sang a few of his own that he had made up when trying to get his nieces and nephews to sleep. It didn't always work on them, but it worked on Rosagunde every time. It was sometimes exhausting, but nowhere near as exhausting as the grueling tasks he was assigned and the torture he continued to receive at the hands of his brothers and the other servants. Going to see Rosagunde was always a welcome relief. Every impossible day found just one miracle.

After a few months of this, however, word started to spread. "Hans is so good with little Rosagunde," one servant would whisper to another. "It's amazing that he, of all people, is the only one who can calm her down." And his superiors began to take note of his absence. "Where's Hans?" they mused, "This floor is still filthy. He hardly touched it." Eventually his brothers found out, and finally his father.

One evening he was in the nursery with Flora and the queen rocking little Rosagunde to sleep when the door burst open and the head groundskeeper waltzed in. Hans stood up from his chair in alarm, preparing to be told off.

"Your majesty," he acknowledged, bowing to the queen. Then he turned to her step-son and grunted angrily, "Hans, you're being sent away."

"What?" he exclaimed, "Where?"

"His majesty feels that you will be more useful on the third isle in the wheat plantations."

"The third isle...isn't that where-"

"The cholera outbreak? Yes, that's why we need more workers. Make sure to always boil your water before drinking it. The ship leaves in the morning. I'll come for you then." And he left without a second look. Hans watched him go, his mouth hanging open.

"Hans..." the queen muttered weakly, tears forming in her eyes. Rosagunde began to cry, sensing that something bad was about to happen to her best big brother. Hans turned to gaze at the queen and she continued, "He can't be serious...can he?"

He tried to calm Rosagunde down and mumbled, "I wouldn't put it past my father to do something like this." He paused for a moment and then added, "He's been merciful to me for long enough. It's time I get what I deserve."

 _"Dying of cholera?"_ Flora cried. Hans shuddered upon hearing the words that were in his mind aloud. "I know you've...made some bad choices, your highness, but _n_ _o one_ deserves that."

"You don't need to call me 'your highness'. I'm not a prince anymore," he said in reply.

"And what about what Rosa deserves?" The queen added, "No one else can handle her the way you do!"

"Rosa will be fine. I'll be fine," he stated flatly, more to himself than to her, "I'll come back. Somehow..."

She didn't sound convinced. The door flew open again and the same man stormed in. "I almost forgot. Your majesty," he said, turning to the queen, more nervously this time, "The king wishes to see you."

She stood up immediately and, hands trembling, she asked, "Wh-what does he want?"

"I don't know, your majesty."

There was a pause and she stood up straight and said, "I'll be right there." Hans and Flora both stood and bowed/curtsied to her as she walked out. Hans knew exactly what the king wanted her for. This was all his fault...

The servant waited until the queen was a ways down the hall. "Put the baby to bed, Flora!" the he shouted before slamming the door.

"Your highness," Flora pleaded, turning to Hans, "You need to leave! You need to get away from here!"

Hans hardly heard what she was saying. He simply stared at the door that his young step-mother had walked through. "I'll be right back," he muttered, "Take Rosa."

He handed Rosagunde to her, who was sobbing frantically. "But-" she stuttered, but Hans was gone before she could say another word.

He made his way down the hall and up the stairs to the first place he could think to go. He knew what his father was going to do and he would prevent it from happening. He would be the hero and rescue her. He finally reached the study and could hear voices inside. He was about to throw the door open, but he stopped, paralyzed in fear.

"...danger to her!" he could hear his father say.

"He's not dangerous! I told you! If you send him there he'll die!"

"One less mouth to feed."

"How can you say that? He's your _son!"_

"I have enough sons. And this particular son is nothing but a monster."

"No, _you're_ the monster!" There was a pause and then Hans heard a slap, a scream, and finally a loud thump on the floor. The first thing Hans thought to do was break the door down, but instead his feet were slowly carrying him backwards, away from the door, until he was running. He was a coward, he thought, but he didn't care in that moment. He had to get away. He thought about taking Rosagunde and fleeing the country, but there was no time. She would be fine, he thought. His father would never hurt her, he thought. He ran to his bunk in the servant quarters and began to frantically stuff a cloth bag with the basic necessities: clothes, food from the kitchen, but then-

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" A voice shouted. He swung around and there was the head groundskeeper holding a lantern in front of him. "I should have known...I suppose we'll have to settle you in the ship a little early." Hans dropped everything as the man dragged him by the hair out of the kitchen and out the door in the direction of the docks.

* * *

It was a sight that Hans never wanted to behold again. Occasionally while he was swinging his sickle, _thump_. The person next to him would collapse to the ground with exhaustion and dehydration. People would gather around and take the person inside to the quarantine like he was just another bundle of wheat. Their living quarters were close to the quarantine, so the smell of death was ever present. Hans wouldn't sleep there. He'd make a bed out of straw and slept in the field. And if someone else discovered his hiding spot, he would go and find another. He was determined to stay away from as many people as he could. He was determined to survive. He had to get back to Rosagunde, the only reason worth living for.

Not one person there was kind to him. He was a murderer and a monster, more dangerous than the disease that plagued the island. Several times he attempted to escape, but he was always caught and punished severely. Eventually he stopped trying.

A month passed and the days grew cooler and all the wheat was almost completely harvested when Hans receive a visit in the fields from the land owner's assistant. "Westergaard!" the large burly man shouted. Hans looked up exhaustedly. "You're wanted!"

Hans followed him and entered the receiving area of the land owner's home. Several people were gathered there and there was a solemnity in the air. The owner turned to Hans sadly and said, "Hans...it's you're father. The king is dead. The queen and the child as well." Hans felt the floor underneath him disappear. His heart felt as though it was literally crumbling to pieces, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. _No,_ he thought _, not Rosa..._

"I know it's hard, losing such a great father. We all loved and respected him. We will have to look to your brother for guidance from now on."

"But how-" He couldn't form the words. His eyes were burning with tears. His sister. His only sister. The only person who ever loved him. Gone.

"A stroke," he answered, "And as for the queen and the princess, no one is really sure. The lady's maid went to her room a few days after the king's death and they simply...didn't wake up. Died of a broken heart, I expect."

Exactly, Hans thought, a broken heart. He broke her until there was nothing left. It was him that killed her and Rosagunde, ultimately.

"The Crown Prince sends for you. The memorial service will be held tomorrow followed by the coronation."

* * *

At the service on the hill where three memorial rocks had been added to the collection, family and guests were gathered to pay their respects and mourn the loss of their great king. The priest spoke mostly about him. For about an hour, he praised him and all his qualities as he commended his soul to God. He prayed that Caleb would be able to continue on in his footsteps and make The Southern Isles a great and prosperous nation. He mentioned Rosagunde and the queen only in passing.

Hans wanted some time alone to say goodbye to his sister, but the crowd was never ending as they gathered to express their condolences. No one said anything to Hans as he stood in the back of the crowd. He was not permitted to stand near his brothers since he was no longer royalty. No longer part of the family. Immediately following the service was the coronation back in the church. Caleb had already been dressed and ready to go at the funeral, anxious to finally inherit his throne. It was a long and grueling day, and all Hans could think about was how badly he wanted to run far, far away. He didn't know what his eldest brother would do to him after all the guests were gone, and he didn't want to find out. Hans wasn't invited to the celebration following the coronation either. He didn't mind. He didn't have anything to wear anyways. All his clothing was taken from him a year ago when he returned from Arendelle. Also, it gave him time. Time to collect his things, say one last goodbye to Rosagunde, and leave The Southern Isles for good. In the past year he realized something. All he ever wanted and needed wasn't a crown or power. All he wanted was freedom. And a family. Someone like Rosagunde who loved him unconditionally. Even if she had grown up and learned about all the things he had done, he was sure that she still would have loved him.

He gathered the little he had and stuffed it in a bag. He would have to obtain food elsewhere, since the kitchen was all hustle and bustle for the coronation celebration. He wanted to go to the stables and check one last time to see if Sitron was there, but he couldn't, because again, the stables were full of people ready to ride home a little early from the celebration. Every day that he cleaned the stalls he had searched every nook and cranny for his horse, but he was nowhere to be found. What had they done to him?

Thankfully no one was on the hill. He didn't even stop to look at what was engraved on the king's stone, the largest of all of them. All he cared to notice was that it was extremely long. On Rosagunde's tiny stone was written nothing more than, "Her Royal Highness Princess Rosagunde Westergaard of the Southern Isles". Hans wanted to say something, but he felt kind of silly talking to a stone. So he just knelt down and stared at the engraving. His only sister, he thought, gone. The only person who had really loved him. He had Flora and Lars, but it wasn't quite the same. Lars had never told him he loved him. It was more like mutual respect. Rosagunde could never tell him in words, but in the way she looked up at him, her eyes shining, and the way she would always be calm every time he was near, spoke louder than words. Maybe someday he would find people who loved him just as much.

"Goodbye, Rosa," he whispered, "maybe I'll come back to see you someday." He slowly stood up, secured his bag around his shoulder and walked away, still fixing his eyes on the little stone. He ran for port, ready to hop onto the first ship that was headed away from the Southern Isles. He didn't care where it went. He would go there and make a new life for himself...


End file.
